The Stroke
by Copper's Mama
Summary: Ames/Guerrero fic. Short one about Guerrero fantasizing about a certain feisty brunette. Please read and review!


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_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

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_Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target. _

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_A/N: Wow, I'm so thrilled you guys have enjoyed my Ames/Guerrero fics so far! You rock! _

_This one is for __**AmesGuerreroGirl**__, who requested I write it. It's about Guerrero fantasizing about Ames at night. Might get to be "M", we'll see how it goes. _

_Thanks for all the wonderful reviews so far, you guys have been great! My classes were so boring yesterday, I wrote "Never Boring" while we were going over our course outline and assignments, and started "Pick Me Up At 5" while the teacher was droning on about the plagiarism rules. _

_Anywhoo, let's get on with it, shall we? _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

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He flopped himself onto his bed, wiping his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Pushing a guy through a wood-chipper just wasn't as easy as it used to be. Especially when his buddy showed up out of nowhere with a tire iron and tried - unsuccessfully - to cave his head in.

So, after a long night of dirty deeds, he just needed to sit back and relax. He kicked off his shoes, flicked open his belt and pulled it free from his jeans, shrugged out of his other clothes, and settled down under the thin covers, placing his hands behind his head.

As he often did after a job, he thought about the things that had gotten him to that point, inevitably starting with his career as a cleaner. Working for the old man had certainly had its benefits, but he was definitely happier now. Not because he had some hero-complex, or because he wanted to do the right thing. No. He wasn't Chance, as much as he respected him. He preferred to be his own boss, something that Ilsa Pucci still had to figure out.

He thought about the changes that the team had undergone after taking on Mrs. Pucci as a client. The new office, the more high-profile clients, and the new recruit: Ames.

Obscenely attractive, and what was worse, she knew it. Young in mind and body, and eager to learn. From him, no less.

Guerrero sighed, thinking of the trouble-making brunette. She couldn't stand silences, she always stuck her nose in prematurely, and she seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of him. Glancing down at his hips hidden under the blanket, Guerrero could see the hidden truth to that statement. Sure, she had her annoying qualities; everyone did. But that didn't mean she was hard on the eyes. Any red-blooded male would jump at the chance to ... well, _jump her_, and he was no exception. He was just well-practiced at hiding his true feelings from others. In his world, that sort of thing could easily be used against him.

Alone, in the sanctity of his apartment, Guerrero slid the blanket off of his body, lowering his hand to his hardening extremity. Images of the attractive brunette flooded his mind, and Guerrero began a slow, stroking pace. His lips quirked upwards at the sensations.

He remembered the feel of her firm body spread over his when she'd knocked him away from the sniper's path. He thought back to the unstoppable grin on her face when he'd opened a tab for her at the bar. He thought about the way she looked in that bikini, those hips jutting in just the perfect place, those delectably perky breasts.

As his strokes increased, his imagination took over. The second his eyelids closed, images of Ames wearing a camouflage bikini with an AK-47 in her hands danced across the darkness. He grinned at the sight, moving on to an image of her sprawled across the hood of his El Do, wearing nothing but that cocky grin.

More and more images of her in various position filled his mind, causing the pressure of his hand to increase, along with the rate of his impassioned strokes. His breathing grew heavy, and he imaged that she was in the room with him right then, settling over his body with a grin as her hands dragged down his chest. He imagined her hair ghosting over his naked flesh as she moved further down, until finally she settled over the area that he was currently showering with attention. He imagined her oval-shaped lips settling over his erection, and a groan escaped his throat. A shiver ran through his spine, causing him to shift against the firm mattress. His toes dug into the sheets, the soft fabric sticking to the rest of his sweat-covered body.

He was reaching his peak, and her voice filled his mind, telling him how attracted she was to him, and how his dangerous personality made her hotter than any man. He imagined that never-ending voice focused only on telling him what he wanted to hear, humming in time against his aching member.

That was the last straw. He exploded with a strangled cry, envisioning her following right along with him. The feeling was extraordinary.

After he came down from his high, his body finally began to relax. The events of the evening long forgotten, he focused on the mental image of his young trainee.

He cleaned up the mess he'd made, ran a quick shower, and told himself that one day soon, he wouldn't need to fantasize about all the things she could do to him. Some day soon, she'd be at his mercy, and she'd be loving it just as much as him.

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_The end. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it? _

_I don't think it was "M" graphic, so I'll leave it at T. _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


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